Lunch at the Lion | midday 26th- Xmas 1677

[Ambrose Turnbull]

The Red Lion Inn is located at Charring Cross. Solidly built in grey stone the inn has an air of permanence and protectiveness. The three storied building displays a shield-shaped sign of a red lion rampant guardant on a white ground. The legend above the door reads "Red Lion Inn. Hezekiah Golightly, lndld."

 

At the eastern end of the building is the great arch, twice the height of a man, giving on to the coach yard. Sturdy wooden gates stand open during the day but are locked with the coming of night.

 

The main entrance can be accessed from the street or from the yard.

 

Ambrose was becoming quite the regular, having struck up an enduring relationship with Mrs Golightly's leek and potato pie.

 

The lifeguard gave a smile and nod to Mrs Golightly as he entered the dining room and moved towards his usual table. It was a small table under a window, where nested one chair, a good spot with a view of the other patrons, or the other way around if that was your incline. Today however he was anticipating company, so he pulled an extra chair over to his table, shifted the table out a bit from the wall, and then stood back to check it looked shipshape.

 

"I'll be needing a second setting today." he cheerfully called over to the table staff, then peering out the window - with any luck Maldon wouldn't be too long.

[James Winchester]

"A table by the windows, if you would." James said to the staff as he entered the dining room. Noni had begged off to go shopping and Lord Wentwood wasn't quite ready to return to Chelsea. Indeed he intended to spend the day in London and amongst his planned activities was lunching at the Red Lion. It was an old favourite and had been something of a habit.

 

Still, he was a little surprised when the waitress informed him that, in fact, his friend had already claimed a table and was waiting for him. James's first thought was that George had made it to London; they had often had lunch together and his old friend would know his habits. Having made this rather pleasant deduction, James was perhaps a little surprised to realise that he didn't know the man sitting at the table that he was led to.

 

Well this was awkward. "Ah, no, I don't believe that this gentleman is waiting for me." He told the waitress somewhat apologetically. "Terribly sorry to disappoint, old chap." He added to Ambrose.

 

OOC: I hope you don't mind me dropping James in here.

[Ambrose Turnbull]

The Inn was not that large, he heard the waitress advise Maldon that 'his friend was holding their table', and with genial expression he turned to greet. But no, it was not Maldon - and the disappointment (or confusion perhaps?)must have been visible.

 

The chair squarked out under him as he stood with respect to the gentleman. "Not at all. I had hoped Lord Maldon would be joining me... but, ah." and his arm flopped loosely in a manner of shrug, "It might be just me."

 

But even this inept chap knew better than to ignore a windfall. "Ah, but seize the moment and all that. I am Lieutenant Turnbull, wont you please join my table for lunch. Ah... I believe I saw you at church earlier on today. Your wife, quite a beauty." and the man himself had seemed likewise popular.

[James Winchester]

The confusion was viewed with good humour despite his obvious initial disappointment, proving that the man was, indeed, a gentleman.

 

"Seize the day, eh what?" James completed the expression, blonde moustache curving in a jolly smile. "Terribly good of you, and with any luck Lord Maldon might yet join us." And whilst three could in some instances be a crowd, hopefully he wouldn't be impinging on the other two men's company unpleasantly.

 

The compliment to Noni immediately raised the other man in James's opinion, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement as he took at seat at the table, whilst the staff hurriedly set another place.

 

"Ah yes, the light of my life." The other man must be knew to court if he didn't recognise her. "Mignonette, nee de la Rovere, now Lady Wentwood. We've been married almost two years." He explained. "And I've been variously called Sir James, Doctor Winchester and Baron Wentwood." He added with a self-deprecating little smile. "Use whichever you like." Having been a second son and having no great aspirations upwards, he was still becoming accustomed to the title.

 

"What of yourself, Lieutenant? Still foot-loose and fancy-free?" James asked. A lot of the younger men were. He was twenty-eight now, no spring chicken having spent his youth at university, but immensely comfortable with his life as it was now.

[Guest]

As the gentlemen got acquainted, a waitress carefully positioned the board with the day's specials where they could read them. There were, of course, the usual dishes which were ever so popular, but Mrs Golightly was always experimenting with new flavours, and happily used her patrons as her subjects.

 

Lunchtime Specials: 26th December

 

Poacher's Plate

Cold cut of roast venison, pulled smoked pheasant breast, duck and port paté, Lancashire cheese, salted butter, fresh crusty bread.

 

Rosamond's Catch

Confit of duck served with herb-buttered winter vegetables and fresh bread.

 

Molly's Medley

A hearty seafood chowder, containing fish, cockles, mussels and prawns, with a side of garlic-buttered bread.

[Ambrose Turnbull]

"Not to be mistaken with sieze the rum, which is also an excellent idea." Ambrose joked, perhaps betraying his sailor-origins.

 

"He may well yet." the Lieutenant still hoped so, although when accepting the invite the young Earl had said he might come upon family obligations. Lunch with the Cavendish's trumped that with a Baron's brother in anybodies book.

 

"Two years." to Ambrose perspective it sounded like a long time, but out loud he said, "so you've barely dusted the confetti from your hair." James seemed well adjusted to married life. Ambrose had met another recently enough married, Lord Beverly, who also seemed content. There were types it suited, he supposed.

 

"Rovere? That sounds Italian..." he paused for James to elaborate.

 

"So, a man of many hats." he apreciated as James told of his titles. Who'd have guessed a modest fellow might accrue such a handful. While the Barony may have been inherited, the the title of Sir suggested a knighthood, something usually earned than purchased. And academically he was achieved as well. Given the multiple choice, ambrose chose the address most coveted, "Sir James then, well met." It all impressed upon him how he was a dwarf amongst the giants at Whitehall.

 

"Yes, footloose as you say." they were of similar age. Ambrose gave a nod to the girl who adjusted the menu board for them to see. "The Duck, and is there a pot of eggnog on today?" he asked in aside, before returning his attention to James inquiry, "fresh from the sea, which has been my home for the best part of 15 years. But now I've hung up my Pea coat, for Lifeguard uniform. I don't expect I shall marry any time soon, this crusty dog has not the manners to charm courts ladies." it was a simple enough truth.

 

"So where is Wentwood? And congratulations of such a mild mannered title, why I once sailed with a man who admitted the misfortune of being heir to Balls Green."

[James Winchester]

“I’m a port man myself, but I believe that the principle is sound.” James replied with an amused smile. “Although if I were to declare my intention to ‘seize the port’ I had best have my Jolly Roger at the ready!” He punned. Ambrose had an easy joviality to his manner that encouraged the good doctor to relax in his company. He could hope that this mysterious Lord Maldon might appear – so many new names, in so little time! – but if he did not then James would still consider this chance encounter most fortuitous.

 

Indeed, the other man had a pleasantly sprightly sense of humour. “Out of our hair, out of the bed, and out of the laundry.” He agreed, amused. “Ah but it truly is a fine venture, if you find a lady who suits you well.” Yes, marriage suited James very well indeed. “She’s a Savoyard, in fact.” The Savoyard, depending on whom you spoke to, but if the man didn’t know the story then James preferred to keep it thus. He wasn’t one to naturally seek attention, even if it did at times seem to follow him.

 

Ambrose wasn’t to know, but he chose the title that James had come to like the best. He was perhaps most comfortable with ‘Doctor’, but ‘Sir’ was something he’d earned entirely on his own merit. “Well me to you too, Lieutenant Turnbull.” The doctor replied. “It’s always good to meet a new friend, and see a new face amongst His Majesty’s finest. There is no more sacred duty than the protection of the King.” And he genuinely meant that.

 

So Ambrose was a mariner? How interesting. “Seeking fame and fortune on the ocean wave, and now retired to dry your feet?” James suggested good-naturedly. “No doubt with a level of experience that most of your comrades can only envy.” Ah, so Ambrose thought he was a little too rough and ready for court? “Give that crust a little time to dry out and flake off, and you might be surprised. The ladies are quite enamoured of a uniform.” He assured the other man.

 

Glancing at the board, James was torn between trying something new and opting for the famous carrot and oyster pie. Well, sometimes it did one good to broaden one’s horizons. “I’ll have the cold plate, and some mulled wine.” He told the waitress.

 

Whilst he had to wonder whether the impugned title was real or imaginary, James never the less laughed at Ambrose’s little tale. “Ah, thank you. It’s a forest in the south of Wales in fact, quite enchanting, very green and of course quite productive.” During his time away James had worked on employing the local poachers as forest wardens and starting a hunting and smoking industry. “I grew up near Oxford mind you, not a drop of Welsh blood in me, much to the disgust of the tenants I’m sure.”

 

“And how about your good self? From where do you hale, other than the briny sea?” The Lieutenant was obviously well bred, for all his self-deprecation.

[Guest]

The waitress happily assured the pair that, this being the Christmas season, of course there was both eggnog and miulled wine to be had. Grasping the board, she moved it discretely away from their table and hurried off to the kitchens.

 

A couple of minutes she was back with a small tray, placing a tiny glass of spiced sack before each man as an aperitif, and a little plate containing two triangles of hot, flakey pastry between them. The pastries contained mushrooms and cheese and with them was a bowl of melted butter mixed with Worcestorshire Sauce for dipping.

[Ambrose Turnbull]

"Hah hah hah haa!" Ambrose had a good laugh of Winchester's joke, it was a very good one, especially the naval angle "Seize the Port, ha ha ha, Jolly roger, ho ho ho...."

 

A good laugh was the perfect way to warm to lunch, napkin meanwhile was flapped out and tucked under his chin, his shoulders still jiggling as they moved on to the topic of wives. "Well I'll take your word for it Sir James, no need test that pudding." though in fact it didn't seems quite so bad when coming from such a cheerful chap, still, no need to tempt fate.

 

"Savoy? Then she is a long way from home, don't tell me you caught her abroad and then brought her home? Forsooth, you do not strike me truly as a pirate! So how did you cant her, a bait, traps? Or was it with that fine sense of humor you have - Lud, just as well you are taken, for I might think to marry you myself! he was laughing again.

 

"Something like that." he shrugged away the idea that he'd been seeking fame and fortune abroad. He'd simply been put at sea, and made the best of it. He'd rather enjoyed navigation, but was generally unremarkable as a sailor. But even unremarkable men can slowly rise through the ranks.

 

"Perhaps." Had he experiance that other Lifeguards might envy? It was a new thought to Ambrose, one he'd digest. But for now the aperitif arrived. "Excellent." Ambrose tipped it back to his mouth, "though you might need tell Mrs Golightly we'll be needing her bigger glasses please!" Ambrose cheerfully informed the waitress, then turned to pull a 'can you believe how small that was' face to James.

 

"Wales eh?" now wonder he'd not heard of Wentwood. "Well not to worry about those tenants, I have yet to meet a well adjusted Welshman. So you are an Oxford man, that will be where you learnt your doctoring then? My elder brother attended for a bit, a humanities student." he wrinkled his nose as though that was all that needed to be said upon that. Inviting a tale, as he dipped a pastry into the Worchester sauce he asked, "So Wentwood is not the family estate then?"

 

As to his own situation he said, "My family is down in Hastings, my father recently died, god rest his soul. Two brothers, one the new Baron, and the other in the Church... as a family we are rather cliche I suppose." he laughed of that, "I am mighty grateful that I was the middle born, the first has such responsibility, and the latter... a desperation. Well, in many instances that is. Might well be different in your own?"

[James Winchester]

James’s moustache curved into a smile as Ambrose laughed at his joke. Clearly it appealed to the man’s naval ties, which had been the intent. The doctor didn’t know much about seafaring – he had a nasty tendency to get seasick and had only travelled beyond England’s shores once. Turnbull might be modest about his own skills but from James’s point of view his knowledge of the sea and ships and battles thereon would be enormous. He’d barely known enough to keep out of the way.

 

Turnbull had a witty way with words, a touch of charm that made it easy not to mind the questions or the man’s obvious interest in the topic. That interest felt flattering. “I fear I would make you a poor wife Lieutenant, I’m never home!” He chuckled in reply. Yet the man didn’t seem overly keen to talk about his own time at sea. Interesting.

 

He did reveal quite a lot about his own family. “Things become cliché because they work.” James replied mildly. As the middle child Ambrose had been the one to send into the military from whence, as the spare, he could potentially be recalled. “My condolences on the loss of your father.” He added gravely.

 

“Only two sons in my family; I’m the younger.” He explained. “I was always rather bookish, so yes, I studied at Oxford. David is everything I’m not; tall, handsome, of a commanding disposition and, of course, heir to Moulsford.” He smiled good-humouredly. “Our father is still kicking on, may he do so for many more years yet. I have an older sister, wed, and a baby sister as yet unmarried.” Although since she would be eighteen by now, that would have to be seen to. James wondered whether he should write to his father, but really it was between him and David.

 

“You asked about my wife and marriage; it’s quite the saga so I’ll give you the short version.” So saying James explained about Noni’s rather impressive family relations and her presence in London with her Aunt. “She came to London before I did, but was always a pawn in the Duchess’s hands, you see.” He gave a brief description of the Duchess’s nature, of Noni’s part in the Princess Race, and spoke in generalist terms about his support of her and the misunderstanding that led to the scheming Duchess assuming that he wanted Noni’s hand in return for his help, should the King not choose her.

 

“Now, I am not a grasping man by nature, but I took exception to Her Grace’s assumption of poor character on my part.” He added, with a certain strong undertone to his voice. “Once the choice of Karoline was announced Her Grace reneged her promise, but I object to such behaviour. It proved quite the schemozzle to extract Noni from her clutches. Fortunately her scheming had gone on so long that Noni was now of age and able to marry whomever she chose. And so we were.”

 

He carefully left out Alexandra’s part in the subterfuge - in order to protect his friend - as well as Karoline’s part. “Wentwood was purchased with part of the dowry.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. “A lady of such quality couldn’t be wed to a man with no title.” He added.

 

“So there you have it. A farce worthy of the stage, and I can tell you that nothing was further from my mind when I came to London, but God works in mysterious ways - as does the King - so watch yourself.” James mock-warned the other man. “You never know what might come your way, so be prepared to seize the opportunity; along with the day, the rum and anything else good that presents itself.”

[Ambrose Turnbull]

"Never at home? Yet another recommendation!"

 

Yet to his situation, Ambrose was grateful of condolence - with everything that had gone down since his fathers death, he'd... well. "Thank you. While he lived to a right old age, and did not suffer, and he, we, were fortunate really. Still, it's one of those sadnesses that creeps upon you at odd moments, my father was a good man. And yes, the cliche worked well for us. well mostly." The lieutenant saw fit to stop talking at that point, licked a finger and dabbled the crumbs of flaky pastry to pick them up, his mouth the natural and ultimate target.

 

James revealed the layout of his own family then. "You make it sound that I pitched my heart upon the wrong Winchester." Ambrose chuckled as a handsome heir to title was revealed, though then held up his hand with an, "ah, I was only kidding." comment as he found out there was an eligible lass in the mix also. Kidding aside, Ambrose was not the marrying sort.

 

Then he fell to interest in the mild mannered mans unlikely drama that took place around his courtship. An evil Duchess, a gullible innocent, unscrupulous ambition and in rival a valiant intriguer and the eventual victor; Sir James himself. "Well stone the crows!" Ambrose expressed with hand slam of the table, "such a tale calls for a toast. And so it was your bringing the Savoy Duchess to justice that earned you the knighthood from the King?"

 

Yes Ambrose could pray for such an intrigue himself, although, hopefully nothing so debilitating as a marriage would be required of him.

[James Winchester]

James chuckled at Ambrose's declaration. The man was quite certain of his lack of desire for matrimony, even as he joked that he'd aimed at the wrong Winchester. "Well, there are a few of us to choose from." The good doctor replied. "You mentioned your brothers; do you have any sisters Lieutenant?"

 

Yet James could relate to the desire not to wed. Had someone asked him the question when he'd first arrived at London, he would have said the same. In fact he recalled a conversation with George in this very room where they had both declared their determination to remain bachelors; ah, how times had changed. If only the other man's efforts hadn't gone so horribly awry.

 

At least Turnbull's father hadn't suffered. "Happens to the best of us, old chap." He said gently. James had already dashed home once after his own father fell from his horse; he knew it was only a matter of time.

 

"Ah, no, I was already Knighted when we were wed." James demurred, a little discombobulated by the other man's expansive good humour, though it was all in good fun. "Come now, I believe you owe me a tale. Some rollicking adventure on the high seas perhaps?" He suggested. As Ambrose suggested a toast James glanced around for something to toast with.

[Guest]

Just as James was casting about for something to toast with, the waitress appeared at his elbow, tray in hand, bearing two tall cut-glass mugs with finely crafted handles.

 

Once contained a thick, white mixture of milk, cream, eggs, brandy and sugar, whipped until thick and flavoured with cinnamon and nutmeg. The other held a portion of steaming, dark-red wine heavy with the scent (and flavour) of orange peel, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger.

 

Each drink was placed before the relevant gentleman, and the waitress discretely withdrew.

[Ambrose Turnbull]

"No sisters." Ambrose replied with that simple fact. Perhaps if he'd had a sister or two he might have been a bit better with women, as it was he had a dreadful understanding of them, he was rather uncertain of what they wanted or how they wanted to get what they wanted. ie. he was in the dark. "I do have a cousin though, Alise Wilkes? You might have heard of her, she is here in London."

 

He'd thought about visiting Alise. He was not overly excited to meet her new husband though, not even so new, they'd been married now for some years. Sweet Alise.

 

"I owe you a tale?" Ambrose blinked, perceiving a strain on his companions face but not knowing why it was. Not understanding that his cheer was discombobulating - irritating? Instead, Ambrose just chuckled and made a guess "Aha, that's how it works in London eh? There's always a balancing of scales." Where conversation had been relaxed previously, it was now strained.

 

" Well, what sort of tale would you like to hear then? I've been any number of naval battles, if that is your interest. Or perhaps you'd like to hear about the design influence of Dutch yachts upon the Royal fleet? Navigation by the stars is a fine topic, though there is hardly a tale to be told of it's practice. More to his mis-practise, and you'll find nary a sailor to admit to that! Hah. Or, I could tell you about..." Ambrose was struggling. This highly achieved gentleman wanted to be entertained by him somehow, and yet Ambrose did not have any tales of the likes of social intrigue.

 

"... ah, I could tell you about the purchase of this suit. It was quite dramatic, or so I thought." It was the first court costume that Ambrose had ever owned, the performance of getting it had been an almighty hoo-hah. He looked towards the door, though it wa unlikely Maldon would arrive, let alone would he break the tension.

[Guest]

John’s displeasure with the Lieutenant had mostly been a momentary thing. The man, in John’s opinion, lacked social graces, but John could forgive that if he was a decent fellow. He’d seemed that. If he was willing to take a bit of instruction, he might make a fine friend. John certainly had never been one to give up on someone at the first problem.

 

So as it happened, John entered just as Ambrose glanced at the door, hearing the last of his comments about telling tales. This drew a short laugh from the lord and he approached the table. He was indeed a bit late. He’d attended to some matters after church.

 

“Skald, I name you.” John said, taking a seat. “For m-m-men call upon you more for tales than… arms. The Lord Maldon,” John introduced himself with a small smile to the other man. He didn’t recognize him, but John felt comfortable sitting without his leave. The Lieutenant had invited him, after all.

 

John signaled to the waiter and looked around curiously. Inns were actually a rather novel thing to him. “So, I’d m-m-meant to ask you earlier. I’m having a snowball fight, more of a siege really. Turks and princesses and all that. W-w-want to give a… valedictory?” In other words, John was asking him to dramatize the events into some narrative at its close as a sort of official end to things.

[James Winchester]

James was a little surprised by Ambrose's response. That was how it worked in any conversation; there was an expected give and take. The other man had asked him question after question, apparently desirous of all the details of James' life, yet not been so forthcoming with his own. It had started to make the good doctor uncomfortable. The request for a story was an effort to move the focus of the conversation from himself.

 

Still, the other man seemed happy enough to oblige. "I'd be very interested to hear about stellar navigation actually, I've a friend in Astronomy circles so it's something of an interest." James revealed. In so much as any scientific topic was of interest, at any rate.

 

The tension was eased slightly, or at least derailed, by the arrival of a third party and presumably Turnbull's expected guest. James rose to his feet politely, noting with interest that the other man walked with a cane and, when he spoke, he spoke with a stutter. Unusual for all that he seemed otherwise whole to the doctor's eye.

 

"A pleasure Lord Maldon, and I trust you'll forgive my addition to your lunch. Doctor Winchester, Baron Wentwood." James offered a smile and sat down again. Now they were three, and Maldon's words perhaps explained Turnbull's pause; maybe people were asking him for stories all the time, and he was a little tired of it. Well, they could let it pass.

 

The little doctor's blonde moustache curved in amusement at the other man's statement. "A snowball fight? What a capital idea. Some lighthearted fun. Why, I wasn't a bad shot with a snowball in my youth."

[Guest]

Rosie was on her way over with the specials board, having seen the new gentleman sit down, when Maldon beckoned to her. She propped it carefully where he might see it before hurrying to his side.

 

"What can I get you m'Lord?"

 

Lunchtime Specials: 26th December

 

Poacher's Plate

Cold cut of roast venison, pulled smoked pheasant breast, duck and port paté, Lancashire cheese, salted butter, fresh crusty bread.

 

Rosamond's Catch

Confit of duck served with herb-buttered winter vegetables and fresh bread.

 

Molly's Medley

A hearty seafood chowder, containing fish, cockles, mussels and prawns, with a side of garlic-buttered bread.

[Ambrose Turnbull]

It was Ambrose error perhaps, to quizz to much of the others success at court. He'd found himself with need of a parabolic learning curve to the methods and manners, though that was not much of an excuse in itself... (and he still hoped to come upon more men of 'his kind', the sort that blustered brash & bawdily).

 

Still, that Sir James had an interest in astronomy was a good point to learn. "Not one with access to greenwich? It's in my mind to visit on a day off, I've heard marvelous things of the place."

 

Ambrose own life (which while speckled with dramatic and sometimes colorful tales, was not much more than the mundane routine of a naval officer) was then spared a recounting as his Lunch guest arrived.

 

"Aha, there's the truth of it." he chuckled standing to greet Maldon, "I shall be forgiven to think others enjoy the sound of my voice as much as I do." he gave a laugh, and then assisted with the introductions as chairs were adjusted and the table at large reseated. "Sir James wife, the pretty Lady Mignonette, nee Rovere, is out upon her errands in town -- I was quick to snap up his fine company, and invited him to join our table. How does the saying go... 'two is good, three is better' ?!" Ambrose gave a laugh as he made that saying up. He did not imagine Maldon would be averse to extending his circle further.

 

"And now you to meet the gentleman I was telling you about." this he said to James, "Although, ha, I'm caught out in a bald faced lie! For indeed, I don't think I'd told you anything of my awaited companion; Lord Maldon. I coerced the good earl to join me for lunch today, under the premise that we would together concoct a tale of enthralling misfortune, that would set maidens to sigh when they heard of it."

 

"A valedictory you say?" Plainly enough John had tickled Ambrose fancy, as the Lieutenant paused to rub his chin. Plainly Maldon had caught both men's interest, as James speculated the sport, and Ambrose wondered upon the ladies attending. "It's quite an honor you offer me Lord Maldon. Pray, is Lady O'Roarke attending? I shall need to prepare something poetic if she is." Heather had challenged Ambrose along those lines, and this might be the perfect showcase to impress.

[Guest]

John asked the waitress for a posset, which was common English fare. It was an alcoholic drink with a sort of cream topping over it. The cream was eaten with a spoon and the rest of it was drank. Despite what the Catholics and Protestants might have you believe, the real division in English society was whether you drank the bottom first then ate the cream, ate the cream then drank the rest, or mixed them together and drank the whole.

 

John appreciated them standing but with a smile gestured for them to sit and be at ease, “Oh, it’s fine enough.” John would’ve been glad for there to be even more people: the actual saying was the more the merrier! “A p-p-pleasure Lord Winchester.” John defaulted to the more standard baronial formulation. He was a bit surprised to find a doctor as a lord, but the baronial order was increasingly opening itself.

 

He made a note too to talk to the man. If he was the only noble doctor, and John thought he was, he might carry influence with his profession. That made him either a valuable ally or John’s most credible opponent over the apothecaries.

 

John chuckled at Ambrose’s recalling, “Yes, I’m afraid the story of my l-l-limp’s rather boring so we need to invent a new one.” He clarified to the doctor. John spoke to Ambrose again, “If you’re interested, by the… way, I’m inviting the d-d-duchess to my next… charitable work on the twenty eighth. You’re welcome to come.” The duchess had, after all, specifically asked specifically for both of them. And the more people there were to play with the children the better.

 

“You’re welcome to… join the snowball siege.” John said to the doctor, “As is your wife. You c-c-can be one of the defenders with me.” There was a farcical story to the whole thing that involved the attackers being heroic rescuers of kidnapped princes kept in John’s fortress. So, in general, the attackers and kidnapped princesses would be the unattached and those already married would be the defenders. Plus John, as the evil Turkish sultan. “One lady is dressing up as an ice goddess.” John prompted the doctor to take his own fantastic persona.

 

“That is an excellent idea.” John said of Lady O’Roarke. “You shuh-should invite her. T-t-tell her it shall… be a show of your skill.” And John would make sure a few snowballs found York’s mistress. John held no deep antipathy for the woman, but after the ball he held enough to hit her with a few snowballs.

[Guest]

The waitress bobbed a curtsy as Maldon asked for his drink. "Certainly m'Lord. And will ye be having luncheon as well?"

[James Winchester]

James was intrigued to hear that Ambrose was also interested in Astronomy, and Greenwich in particular. “He does indeed; Sir Isaac Newton.” James replied. The man behind the groundbreaking new telescope lens. James had also met Flamsteed and the others, though he couldn’t claim more than a passing acquaintance. “Let me speak with him, see whether he might be inclined to give us a tour. I haven’t seen it since the new lens was installed.” He said, with the sudden enthusiasm of finding a like mind.

 

Lord Maldon’s arrival was greeted both politely and warmly by both men. “The good Lieutenant was kind enough to take pity on me and offer me both your excellent company over lunch.” James demurred, pleased to make new acquaintances. He smiled as they resumed their seats, not commenting on the form of address since Maldon was his social superior, even though Lord Winchester was generally understood to be the Marquess of Winchester. Flattery came in many forms.

 

The idea of making up an interesting story to explain John’s limp amused James. Better to make the best of one’s hand in life, certainly. Given the man’s title, the doctor hardly expected the limp would be much of an impediment. “I see. Badly scarred from a fight with an Arabian Dervish, or crushed when you rescued a famous French courtesan from a run-away carriage. That sort of thing?” Tales of daring-do were always entertaining.

 

“I’d be delighted to join in.” James assured Maldon. “And I’ll ask Noni if she’d like to play as well.” Though he worried that his accident-prone wife might slip, he brushed the thought aside, resolved not to restrict her the way her aunt had. She had a fabulous sense of fun and might well enjoy it.

 

“And have you travelled to court alone Lord Maldon?” James hadn’t heard of the estate or the family, but there were lots of titles coming out of the woodwork at the moment, with court in upheaval. "Or is there a lucky Lady Maldon?"

[Ambrose Turnbull]

"You have met Newton yourself?" Ambrose blinked. It took a lot to surprise the Lieutenant, who was momentarily lost for words. "Er... ah, I would be honored..." he deferred. Now this was what men meant when they talked of the way opportunities sprung up in London, "I read about the lens in one of the gazettes, from italy wasn't it? So it arrived already, and has been installed. Now there is the rub of living abroad, the frequency of newspapers are too far and few. But to see it for myself, or even meet the man, ha I shall be writing to my old shipmates to tell all of it!"

 

Yet to the conjuring of tales, Ambrose nodded as James got the gist, "though with current sentiments you'd do better to have been injured while tripping a frenchman under a carriage." he chuckled, "hmm... what do you think Maldon, it's got a certain ring to it, and it's at the height of political fashion."

 

Maldons aside about a Duchess drew a momentary blank look. "Oh, you mean the Duchess at Church, ha, but I think I'll pass. All this talk of charity while sober is making me depressed." he winked with a grin, "Where are those drinks by the way?" If John paused to think about it, he'd realise his good fortune, a man with Ambrose' potty mouth best be kept apart from impressionable children.

 

Listening in to the greater details of the upcoming event, Ambrose then commended, "You've put great thought into it." yet naturally he wondered how he would fit in. "And so I, as speaker of the Valedictory, might need to be a neutral observer during the attack? That I might later rework wittily observations of heroics and sacrifice." Of Heather he nodded, distracted as he realised the challenge he had.

[Guest]

“No, thank you.” John said. He wasn’t hungry.

 

John was indeed making an error. It was an understandable one, James’ title was a bit unusual in that regard, but it was still definitely an error. Someone would correct him eventually no doubt, although noble titles with confusing overlap were nothing new. “New lens f-f-from Italy?” The conversation on astronomy continued while he was there and John lacked context. He quirked his head in obvious confusion.

 

“That’s the ticket,” John said to James and then John laughed, “I’d p-p-prefer something that makes me look a little less clumsy and p-p-petty.” “P-p-perhaps the lady’s nationality should be changed? What’s the b-b-best nationality to rescue these days?”

 

John nodded as Ambrose turned him down. Truthfully he agreed that the two weren’t good company together, but John was loath to exclude anyone. He was glad, though he’d be pleased to spend time with Ambrose in some other way and he’d make up some excuse so the duchess didn’t think less of him. As for drinks, “Along suh-soon I hope.”

 

“Excellent.” John was aiming for fun. He was certainly not going to be much of a threat on the battlefield. Perhaps the two could stumble around together. “No,” John laughed, “I’ve j-j-just got a terrible time saying no to people.” Which was the truth of the matter. Virtually all the evolution had been from requests or inclusions like John was making for Ambrose.

 

“Ah, look at him,” John remarked to Winchester, “thinks art is n-n-neutral.” John was ribbing, obviously, “You’ll be with the attackers. And spuh-speak of their g-g-great heroism and rescuing of innocent maidens and overcoming of g-g-great evil.” Or at least that’s where John would choose to put him.

 

“Alone? G-g-goodness no. M-m-most of my family is here.” John said. Famous or not, the Bramston’s were very well connected. Though John’s arrival had been prompted not by upheaval but because he’d just turned twenty one last season and been summoned for Parliament. “Ah.” John realized he was asking after a wife, “No, there isn’t.” John was unmarried, though he didn’t think that was abnormal at his age. Perhaps slightly for his rank.

[Guest]

The waitress nodded and disappeared, returning soon after with John’s requested posset; hot spiced wine curdled the milk, making both warming and wholesome. She set it next to the two drinks which had already been placed, and remained as yet untouched.

 

A moment later she returned again, placing a plate of confit of duck before Ambrose, and a selection of cold cuts before James.

 

Although John had said he wasn’t having lunch with them, a second girl brought a little glass of spiced sack and a triangle of hot, flakey pastry that she set before him as a snack. The pastry contained mushrooms and cheese and with them was a bowl of melted butter mixed with Worcestorshire Sauce for dipping.

[James Winchester]

“From Italy, yes.” James concurred on the subject of the lens. “For the Greenwich observatory.” He added for John’s benefit. “I believe that the replacement has arrived, though I could be mistaken. It’s not my area of expertise of course. The original was cracked in transit.” Maybe he’d just assumed that the replacement had arrived in the intervening time. Well, only one way to find out. “I’ll write to Newton and see whether he might be willing to take us on a tour.” James promised.

 

The little doctor paused when Ambrose impugned the talk of charity without a drink inside him, then reached forward to where his drink sat next to Ambrose’s on the table where the waitress had placed it, and took a quiet sip. Likely the man hadn’t noticed it during their rather animated conversation. "You are not a proponent of charity, Lieutenant?" He asked quietly.

 

“One could argue that the ideal nationality for a rescue would be German, given the anti-Catholic sentiment currently running through London, and Her Majesty’s nationality.” James suggested. “Perhaps you rescued a German Lady from a nefarious Frenchman’s inappropriate attentions? Challenged him to a duel perhaps?” It was a harmless story and James quite enjoyed the imaginative exercise.

 

The other two spoke of some Duchess but James didn’t pry. The fact that they didn’t mention her by name was clearly an effort to keep her identity a secret, though were only so many Anglican Duchesses to chose from. Still, the snowball fight was sounding rather fun; James made a mental note to put it in his diary.

 

“Ah, well, it is always good to have the company of family at Christmas.” James replied easily. If John was unwed then perhaps that explained his arrival at court. “My lady wife and I were thinking of having a little afternoon tea for some friends, perhaps you and your family might like to join us? And the good Lieutenant as well, of course.” James smiled at the pair of them.

[Blackguard]

It was then that a soldier raced into the Lion. "Lieutenant, you are needed at once." By the look of things, there was no time to waste. "Gentlemen, I trust you will excuse me?" Not awaiting an answer, he moved away with the trooper.

 

 

 

OOC~ Just moving Ambrose out of the way so that you might carry on.

[Guest]

John casually handed the waitress a two pence coin as she served them. It was a gesture of condescension but also consideration: that he outranked her and yet appreciated her service. He took a fork and clumsily took the tart apart slightly, peering inside before dipping and trying a bite.

 

“Ah.” John said of the telescope. He didn’t insert himself unduly, though he was a bit jealous. Still, he had his own telescope, and that book to pour over. Even if someone like Newton might think it was full of nonsense.

 

“I’m j-j-just back from, actually.” John said of Germany. “So I l-l-like the idea so far. Perhaps an epic f-f-fight when he ambushes me.” Since after all, his opponent needed to be dishonorable, “But it can’t just be a nefarious Frenchmen. There’s a l-l-lot of nefarious Frenchmen and we need… the nefarious Frenchman.” The lady was best kept a bit vaguer. John was unmarried, after all, and he’d welcome anyone who wanted to self-insert. With Ambrose leaving John looked to James, thereby deputizing him the expert on nefarious Frenchmen.

 

John nodded to family, taking a deeper sip. “I w-w-would be glad to.” John said of tea. He would tell his family if he got the chance but he made no promises. He added, gingerly, “If you w-w-would tell me the time, I should tell you if I can.” John was not one to put on airs, but he did have a rather busy schedule. He would make time if he could, though.

[James Winchester]

A Life Guard soldier appeared in the Lion in a hurry, looking for the Lieutenant. Duty called. James didn’t begrudge the man his service to the King, but it did leave him and John in a slightly awkward situation. Best to make the most of it.

 

The nefarious Frenchman. James thought for a moment. “Ah, well, that would be Monsieur.” He opined. The younger brother of the Sun King, Philippe, Duke of Orleans, infamous for his many lovers of both sexes, with whom he had embarrassed his English first wife Henrietta Stuart, sister of Charles II. “He was present at court during the assassination attempt on the King at his wedding, you know.” James pointed out. Of course, the Ambassador’s bastard had been found with the crossbow so he’d taken all the blame.

 

James smiled as John said that he would like to attend the tea, schedule allowing. “Of course, of course.” He understood busy schedules. “We haven’t set a date yet, but I was thinking Thursday afternoon.” That would be the 30th and, as far as James was aware, there were no major events on. “Might that suit you, do you think?” He asked.

[Guest]

“Mmm.” John seemed to consider, “It’d be better to huh-have someone whose wife isn’t from… the Palatinate.” John said. Though the French were undoubtedly unpopular in that country, what with their multiple invasions that had devastated the Queen’s home (including, literally, where she’d lived). John just shook his head at the assassination attempt. He sometimes wished he could move the continent a good two hundred miles further south. And chop off Anglia and put it on the far side of Wales.

 

“Talk of assassination’s p-p-put me off it.” He said, his mood having been soured. He didn’t blame James (or seem to blame James) but his mood did indeed noticeably darken. “There are such people in the world.” John said his mother’s indignant phrase about the moral failings of the world.

 

As for tea, “That w-w-would be fine.” John had something in the evening but he didn’t see a conflict. “Where is it... to be? Is there anything I should b-b-bring or do? Will there b-b-be a topic?” John was curious but, despite the barrage of questions, he didn’t lean forward or make to grill his companion.

[James Winchester]

“Ah, well, my apologies.” James replied mildly when John declared himself put off the idea of the daring tale. It wasn’t really the doctor’s forte anyway, but the conversation suddenly took on a far more sombre tone. “Indeed.” He agreed bitterly, on the subject of there being people who would do such terrible things. “It is not a night that I shall forget in a hurry.” The little man added grimly. He was amongst those who could say ‘yes, I was there’.

 

As the conversation drifted to the planned tea, it lightened once more. “Spendid. We’ll have it at our house in Chelsea, it’s quite big enough for a friendly gathering. There will be games, though I haven’t decided what yet. All will be in the invitations” He might leave some of that to Noni. “As for things to bring, only yourself and any family or close friend you think might enjoy it.” He allowed.

 

“I simply thought that a friendly gathering of well meaning, proper folk would be just the thing for a pleasant afternoon.” He explained his reasoning. “There has been such a movement amongst those strongly Libertine, with much wasted effort on pranks and shocking behaviour when one’s energies could be put to far more productive uses. I rather think it’s time that there was a counter-revolution. Encourage a little more grace, dignity and pursuit of higher purpose in society.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Ah, but perhaps I get ahead of myself.”

 

“What of your good self, Lord Maldon? What things draw your interest and warrant your goodly attention?” James enquired, wondering what made the man across from him tick.